


fabrefaction.

by duelbraids



Series: blessedentia archives [6]
Category: Xenoblade Chronicles
Genre: FRIENDS MAKE A FRIEND BOOk, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-17 23:36:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5889484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duelbraids/pseuds/duelbraids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the act of making a work of art. <br/>( someone has to fill the collectopedia. )</p>
            </blockquote>





	fabrefaction.

“Please, hand me the book.”

Eryth Sea turned all but quiet for a moment, as if the ether spinning around the two arguing could sense that there was tension, and silenced all other noises, and the larger tightened his grip on a leather bound book, “Not until you say what it’s called. The book’s gotta name, use it.”

Aggravated huff, and Melia clenches her fists, “I most certainly will not. It is a ridiculous name, and whoever came up with it should be ashamed.”

“Gotta say the name, Melia.”

In spite of herself, Melia snarled ( what type of princess does that, allowing herself to get angry at this commoner, all so bad for the way the people perceived her. ) “You are the most _incorrigible,_ fooli–” Reyn raised his eyebrow, and Melia must swallow her insult; he must be trying to make her angry, for whatever reason Homs did these things, “ **Fine.** Please, hand me the _Collectopedia_.”

There was a moment’s hesitance, Melia mentally preparing herself to make a grab at it and snatch it from his hands; though, there was no need, Reyn finally placing the heavy thing into her arms, “I dunno why Sharla would ask you, anyway. There’s perfectly good drawings in there an’ all. Ain’t one of ‘em that needs replacing.”

“So you say,” Very qucikly, agile fingers ran over the pages and opened up to a page that was all text ( a small, smushed together cursive, signed with _Shulk Soss_ at the bottom – who knew Homs had last names. ) Her eyes scanned the letterings first, barely needing the words. She knew what a Mane Cat looked like; her loyal pet still layed at home, perhaps sleeping in her big, blue, curtained bed as she was _never_ allowed; of course, Melia always let the cat sleep with her, what type of pet owner would she be if she didn’t.

She flips the page, and her breath caught in her throat, Melia had never laughed so hard; snorting, she sounded as if she hadn’t seen something so _hilarious_ in years. “Oh,” she began, “I do not mean to be rude, but – _please_ do tell me how this is a cat, Reyn.”

A juvenile shame crosses his dark face; “See ‘ere,” chubby fingers point to a sketchy rounded lump, that perhaps could be a head, though more childishly could be something quite _different_ , “That’s the **tail** an’ that’s,” dragged fingertips hover over scraggly lines, all around a off center circle, “That’s the mane. They do got ‘em, right? I had to go off Shulk’s descriptions, an’ sometimes he ain’t the best at remembering details, y’see.”

“I see.” She didn’t understand at all, for the descriptions matched just perfectly with what she remembered of her own mane cat; of course, she had her own Nadia to fill in the details, where words did supply what the tail looked like, she’d had the fluff flicked at her face in aggravation enough to know what it looks like. “Well, if you do not mind, I do think we will be replacing this drawing too.”

Reyn pouted; Melia grinned a bit wider at him. “It ain’t like you can do much better, can ya?”

“Your doubt of my artistic ability is **not** appreciated.” Admonishing index finger wags at Reyn; she’s only kidding, she thinks. It was a _bit_ , just the slightest bit, insulting, to have her art compared to such scribblings. She shouldn’t blame him, though; Melia knows she looks younger than him, and one doesn’t expect much of those younger than them.

A moment’s pause, and she grabs at her own book, her little journal; the parchment was much smaller than the Collectopedia’s, but it would be enough. “I may have…” she trailed off, trying to find the page, “I do believe – if I am right…” Reyn peered over her shoulder, leaning closer, “Indeed!”

Hidden in between the folds of her brother’s letter, ( perhaps about two years old, addressed to her eighty sixth birthday ) a sketch of her cat, folded and sleeping on a bed. Melia’s art had grown a little since then, perhaps not enough for her own tastes, but the drawing would do, “I knew I kept this with me.” Reyn’s eyes seemed to be on the letter she’d left open, instead, though, and she swatted at his face. “Snooping!” she cries at him.

“Sorry, sorry, can’t help it. I read everything I can – Shulk told me to, when he first, uh, taught me.” Melia tilts her head, opening her mouth to speak, but Reyn waved her off, “That’s a bit personal, but uh– _Your_ uh, drawin’. It’s good. Real good. Uh, certainl’ better than mine.”

These were words she’d heard before, words she’d hear more her entire life, but still, she blushed and bowed her head, “Thank you, I do try.” Melia could not help but feel a bit of a rush, anytime someone complimented art, it always seemed so much more genuine, as if they could separate the art from the artist, and see it for what it is rather than who drew it.

Or perhaps Reyn held no grievances against those of mixed blood, as she’d once feared all Homs had. Was it Yumea, who had told her that? That, if she were to be Empress, she would have to visit the colonies, and that they would hate the amalgamation her blood was, even more than the High Entia. If it truly was Yumea, Melia wonders why she ever believed such a statement in the first place.

Taking the drawing in between her index and middle finger, Melia attempts to align it over the original _artwork,_ if one could call it that. It was not a perfect fit, but it covered no other words and didn’t run off the page – really, Melia could not ask for more.

Well, she could ask for one thing, seeing how important it was – important to Sharla, in the very least, and that made it important to Melia, “You– you have the glue, correct? I will be needing it, of course.”

There was a moment of quiet, where Reyn’s hands went to the several places where he might have a pocket ( Melia felt rather jealous, that he had so many, High Entia traveling clothes were not well equipped in that department. ) But, slowly a little look of horror crossed his face, “You do have it, do you not?”

“I _did._ ”


End file.
